


Victim of Circumstance

by Pfain Ryder (Cat_Moon)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Disturbing Themes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 15:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Pfain%20Ryder
Summary: When Sam leaps to save a life, can he save three? Sometimes a villain can also be a victim.  A GEN leap story.





	Victim of Circumstance

**Author's Note:**

> Published in Green Eggs & Ham #6. See end of warning if you're sensitive.

He watched the large yellow butterfly flitting about, a splash of bright color against the field of freshly cut green grass. He watched it for several minutes, with an avid interest that might have been considered, had anyone been watching him, as obsession. He had cultivated the fine art of patience to a skillful degree.

The butterfly, in all its innocent beauty, flew closer and closer to him. He imagined he could hear it laughing softly to itself, delighting in life. He held up his outstretched hand tentatively, silently beckoning the frail creature closer.

Then he brought his hand down, and very carefully, very methodically, squashed all the life out of its miserable soul.

Nate Watkins hated beautiful things.

XXX

A warm breeze stirred his hair, gently lifting the strands hanging down from his forehead. He ran his fingers through the unruly tangle, pushing it back off his face, and took a deep breath of the sweetly scented air.

 _Leaping in should always be like this,_ Sam thought to himself. Newly cut grass always brought back fond feelings and memories from his childhood--something Sam Beckett cherished with a new appreciation since he'd started his journey through time. Each wisp of memory was like a gift bestowed upon him, to be treasured and clung to. For when he left this new place, he might not take it with him.

Shrugging off the bittersweet knowledge, Sam concentrated on the matters at hand. Chiefly, finishing the bushes he'd arrived in the middle of pruning. While he worked, he engaged in one of his favorite games, trying to guess all he could about the leap before his hologram arrived. It was always worth the look of consternation on his friend's face when he had the answers before Al could provide them. This time he was in a park somewhere, in early spring. It had that middle of the week feel to it--no crowds of people on weekend picnics, just a few stray visitors sensed more than seen. The wallet in his back pocket had informed him that he was Sydney Forbes, and lived in Oak Park, presumably a condo development, in Somerset, New Jersey. The newspaper he'd found in a nearby trash bin put the date within a few days of April 8, 1990.

_April 8...why should that date sound so familiar?_

Sam shook off the sudden chill, and moved over into a patch of sunlight. The sound of the Imaging Chamber door was a welcome diversion.

"Hiya, Sam, how's it going?" Al asked as he stepped out into the hologram, giving a cursory glance to his surroundings.

"So far, so good," he replied, a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Al began punching buttons on the handlink. "I guess you're anxious to find out who and where you are..."

Sam didn't let him finish. "My name is Sydney Forbes, and I'm in Somerset, New Jersey, on--" he took a gamble that the paper he'd found was today's, "April 8, 1990." He thought of asking Al about the date, but a little voice inside told him he didn't want to find out. "I--he works for the park," he gestured with the hedge clippers.

Al's eyes had narrowed, and he was giving Sam _that_ look. This was the part of the game Sam always forgot until this moment. When he'd get a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, the irrational fear that Al would deem himself unneeded and leave Sam on his own. He knew Al would never desert him...but the insecurity persisted.

"I really need you and Ziggy to come up with why I'm here," he said with his best puppy-dog look. "If it turns out to be something dangerous, well, I'm getting a real sense of false security here," having been said, he stretched out on the grass with a sigh of contentment.

"Yeah, I can see that," Al commented, watching him. "And speaking of, you didn't read that driver's license closely enough."

"What?" Sam asked, sitting up.

Al grinned. "Sydney is a she."

Suspecting a trick, Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out the license again. Sure enough, under sex was the letter F. He cursed New Jersey for not having photo licenses like the rest of the country, and conceded the round to Al.

Sam examined his clothes again. He was wearing nondescript and non-gender specific worn jeans, blue cotton work shirt, and sneakers. But he realized there was something else that should have clued him in.

He glanced around the park self-consciously. "How was I supposed to know? The bra and high heels usually tip me off."

Al's grin got wider. "I'm afraid she doesn't need a bra. Don't get me wrong--" he hastily added, "you're a nice looking woman. Not everybody can be built like a--"

"Al!" Sam stopped the lewd description he knew would follow. "A human being's worth should not be measured by their looks and build," he said righteously.

"Sorry," Al mumbled. "I didn't realize you were sensitive about the size of your honeydew melons."

Sam glared at him. "Just find out what I'm here to do," he ordered crossly.

XXX

Nate prowled the park restlessly, the bleak anger building in him until he thought he would scream. It was worse on the weekends though, when the park was crowded with laughing, happy people. When he would slink by with his head down, avoiding the taunting gazes he knew were aimed at him. Judging him and deeming him not worth the title human being. And what right did they have to judge him?

What right did they have to be happy?

Happiness. An obscure concept he had no grasp of. Love, another thing that had been denied him all his life. Hatred, cruelty, isolation, he knew all of those intimately. Had known them all through his childhood, when his parents had told him he was worthless; when the other children at school had seen something in him he couldn't, that he was a pariah, cast out from the garden like Adam and Eve. Only he never could figure out what an innocent little boy had done so wrong to be punished for it for the rest of his life.

He'd tried to be good. He prayed to God every day, begging for help, asking why, desperately wanting to understand. If he knew what he'd done, he could try to fix it. But he'd never gotten an answer.

Then the day came when he stopped praying. Like all of the others, God had deserted him to his sorry fate. He was stronger now, he didn't need any of them.

Now, he needed revenge.

XXX

It was quitting time and Sam was just putting away the gardening tools when Al arrived again. He closed the door to the storage shed and turned to face the hologram, wiping his dirty hands on his jeans.

The look on Al's face stopped him cold. He was pale, the look in his eyes grave. He shifted from one foot to the other nervously.

"What is it?" Sam asked, apprehension growing inside.

"Well, uh...we have a bit of a situation..." Al pretended to give all his attention to Ziggy, but Sam knew he was just stalling.

Whatever it was, Al did not want to tell him, that much was obvious. His nervousness began to snowball, he could feel the adrenalin start to kick in. It was going to be one of those leaps after all. "Al, what is it?!" he demanded when his friend still didn't speak.

"In the original history," Al began in a carefully neutral voice, "a woman named Carol Lee was killed in this park today...in about twenty minutes. Sydney was already on her way home from work. She'd seen someone suspicious hanging around when she was on her way out, gave the police a description, but no one was ever caught."

Something in Al's tone was wrong. "You said in the original timeline?"

Al's pause was laden with reluctance. "Now...Sydney is killed when she comes upon the murder in progress and tries to stop it. _You're_ killed when you try to stop it."

Sam concentrated on staying calm. After all, he'd been in spots like this before...too many times. "But that must be why I'm here, to stop it? Right?"

"Not necessarily." Al became more animated. "Sam, Ziggy says Sydney felt responsible because she hadn't reported the suspicious behavior right away...not to mention being afraid to work here any longer. She quit her job and moved to Kansas, where she has relatives. It spooked her so much that she stopped working outdoors--something she loved--and ended up as a waitress. Her guilt complex is almost more well honed than yours," he added in a murmur that Sam nearly missed.

"You're saying I should just report it and leave?"

Al nodded, but without spirit. They both knew he couldn't and wouldn't do that.

"I'll tell you what," Sam said, taking pity on his anxious face, "I'll make a quick call to the police, then I'll go find them."

When Al spoke again his voice was harsh. "Tell me something. If you get killed one of these days, chasing after some psycho like this, how will that help the damsel in distress?"

"It wouldn't happen like that," Sam assured him with more bravado than he really felt.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I have _you_ looking out for me."

XXX

Nate hadn't meant to kill the dog that night, really he hadn't. It was the rage, building up inside until he needed to get rid of it. The poor thing had just been in the right place at the wrong time. He regretted that afterwards, even though he didn't much care for dogs. Wimps, they were. Kick them and they'd come back for more with their tails between their legs, begging you to love them. He despised them for that.

Still, animals really weren't responsible for his pain. In fact, they'd always liked him. He had a way with them, his boss at the animal shelter had even said so. That was before he'd been fired.

It really was too bad that his ex-boss hadn't been there that night, instead of the poor dog.

He reached into his pocket and carefully extracted the remains of the yellow butterfly, trying to smooth out its bent and mangled wings. Tears of sorrow built up in his eyes, and he angrily wiped at them with the back of his free hand. He wouldn't prey upon the less fortunate and defenseless anymore. Wouldn't stoop to _their_ level again, the way they'd preyed upon him. It wasn't fair.

From now on, he'd extract no revenge. Only justice.

XXX

"The numbers aren't changing," Al informed Sam, furiously attacking the handlink. "The phone call to the police doesn't help, they don't get here in time."

Sam stood with his hands on his hips. "Al, where does the murder take place?"

Al finally looked up and sighed. "Follow me." They walked in silence for a time, then Al spoke again. "You could just get Carol out of the park."

"Then he'll still be at large, and might hurt someone else. I can't do that, Al." Sam pretended he couldn't read clearly the thoughts going on behind Al's calm facade...because they were the same things he himself couldn't help thinking about. Each time a situation like this came up, he wondered, would his luck finally run out? He steeled himself against the doubt, calling upon his faith to give him the strength he needed. It hadn't deserted him yet.

"Shit," Al swore, glaring at the handlink.

"What?"

"It's changed again--I don't know how. The murder takes place in five minutes instead of twenty."

"How could I have changed _that_?" Sam demanded, picking up his pace.

Al used some language that Sam rarely heard, even from him. "Ziggy was using the police report, the time was wrong. Or it's wrong on the coroner's report..." He sighed heavily. "Either Carol dies in twenty minutes, or in five."

They crossed a bridge over a small stream, and Al motioned for Sam to duck out of sight behind some bushes. "They found her body...Damn!" Sam looked at him in alarm. "They found her body here, they don't know where she was killed!"

Making a quick mental note to tell Al to give Ziggy a tune-up, Sam barked, "See if Ziggy can center you on Carol! I'll keep looking too, but maybe you can find them quicker than I can."

Al nodded and vanished, leaving Sam alone.

And, without Al's comforting if insubstantial presence, more nervous than ever.

XXX

Sam came upon them unexpectedly. Sprinting around some trees, he came face to face with a terrified-looking woman, and a man with a gun to her head.

And Al was nowhere in sight.

Sam froze, mindful to make no sudden moves. The man had stopped too, obviously thrown off by the surprise company. Sam knew the time to move would be now, before he had time to decide how to proceed.

He held out his hands in a non-threatening gesture, Al's ominous words ringing in his ears. Sweat broke out on his forehead. "You don't want to do that," he said calmly.

Nate Watkins raised his eyebrows. "You're all alike, aren't you? You think you know what I want and don't want?"

Sam changed tracks. "No, I guess you're right. I'm sorry." _Keep him talking_. "But can't we talk about why? What has she ever done to you?"

The man's eyes changed, and for a moment, Sam was sure both of them were about to die. "I had no intention of shooting her." Something about the way it was said raised the goosebumps on Sam's body.

Nate glanced around nervously, then waved the gun in Sam's direction, motioning him behind the clump of bushes he'd trimmed earlier. "Down on the ground," he commanded, using the gun for emphasis, still gripping the whimpering woman tightly.

"He isn't kidding Sam, do it!" Al demanded. Some of his tension easing, Sam did as he was told as Al continued. "I don't think he knows what to do now, he wasn't expecting a witness. We've got to use that."

"If you're going to kill us, don't we at least deserve to know why?" Sam pleaded.

For a moment, it seemed like he was getting through. Then Nate's face hardened again. "So did I," he said cryptically. "And did anyone tell me?!"

"Tell you what?" Sam pressed, despite the outburst.

"What I did wrong!"

"Why do you think you did something wrong?"

"Don't play dumb with me. If I asked you for a date--would you have said yes? If I just asked you to be my friend, would you?! No. Because I'm not worth your time."

A picture was starting to form in Sam's mind. "They've hurt you, haven't they?" he said in his gentlest tone. The gun wavered for only a moment, but it gave him hope. "I know how that must feel. But if you keep trying, don't give up--"

He didn't get a chance to finish. "I don't wanna hear any more of your crap!" Nate roared, shoving Carol down on the ground so hard she cried out. He hit her across the face with the gun.

Seeing the rage building in the man's eyes, Sam decided it was now or never. While Nate was busy with Carol, he lunged forward, ignoring Al's cry of protest.

Nate whipped around and the gun went off, but Sam had gotten to him in enough time to push his hand up. The bullet slammed safely into a tree. Taking advantage of the situation, Carol scrambled to her feet and ran.

They struggled over the gun, but Sam was stronger and in better shape. Nate tried to pry it out of his hands, first with anger, then with increasing desperation.

He was so close, Sam could feel the breath on his face. Those eyes, dark and empty, stared at Sam as the hand stayed firmly on the gun. Then, he tried to pull the muzzle towards himself.

"No," Sam said quietly.

The pleading in the face before him cut into his heart. "Kill me," Nate whispered. "Please don't let them punish me any more."

"I can't do that. You can get help..."

"They've never helped me, don't you see?! They'll just put me in prison, and...and it'll be worse than the hell I've been living in all my life. You can't understand, you're pretty, and probably have a lot of friends," he went on, begging for understanding. "You don't know what it's like for people like me. You think I'm just crazy. You wouldn't believe me if I told you about the humiliation, the scorn. About how I've always been treated. You wouldn't believe me, no one could understand," he repeated. "I was just a little kid!" he almost sobbed.

"Maybe I can't understand, but I want to help you," Sam murmured.

Nate continued as if he hadn't heard. "I don't know why I was chosen for it. I tried to change things, I really did. People just don't...I'm not like everyone else. Nothing I do can change that, and I'm tired of living like this."

Sam wondered what horrors could have brought this man to the brink of madness. Horrors apparently bestowed by his fellow human beings. "I know it's hard to see it now, but there's a way out. There are people who want to help you..."

"They'll lock me away and throw away the key. You know they will. Help is for the golden people. Not the losers. If you have any compassion, any humanity in you, please, kill me now." The hand that was still over Sam's on the gun loosened, the fight going out of him.

Sam shook his head, relaxing slightly. "Maybe no one else believes in you, but I do. I believe you can fight and win. I won't let you quit." The words echoed of a time past, and he glanced at Al.

At that moment, the sound of sirens cut the air. Momentarily distracted, and pleased with himself for having finally come up with the right words to help the man, Sam never knew what was coming.

With sudden force, Nate's hand tightened on the gun once again, and before Sam had a chance to react, pulled the trigger.

A moment of deafening explosion, the feel and smell of blood dripping down his face...

And Nate slumped over into Sam's arms.

Sam didn't have to feel for a pulse to know the man was dead. He looked up at Al, feeling sick. "I thought I'd gotten through to him... I let him down," he pronounced in anguish.

Al was shaking his head. "The world did that, long before you came along. Not even you could have undid all that damage in a few minutes."

"I relaxed too soon," Sam said, berating himself and going over in his mind how he could have handled the situation differently.

"Wouldn't have made a difference. He'd given up, Sam."

"He could've..."

"He could've been right, Sam."

Together, they waited for the police to arrive. Sam watched a yellow butterfly dance among the flowers, then fly up into the air, free.

**the end**

10/31/94

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Talk of animal harming, but not explicit.


End file.
